Colorless and Vivid
by Becca the fiend
Summary: A collection of DGM-related drabbles. Multiple pairings/genres. Most should be canon, but some AUs might slip in there.
1. Mistletoe

AN: Based on a piece of fanart running around the internet that made me think: "Wow that is an awkward kiss." And then I came up with this explanation for it with a friend.

* * *

Kanda was really tempted to just say "fuck it" to the whole thing and just slice up anyone unfortunate enough to get in the way of Mugen - especially a certain Bookman and exorcist, who were currently giggling off to the side. (This was definitely their fault, he could tell, even without evidence.) Yes, slicing up those two idiots would be satisfying indeed.

But Allen was giving him that look again – the innocent smile that usually meant he was about to manipulate Kanda into something embarrassing. Kanda managed to keep his anger in check with a twitch of his sword hand and a 'tche' of annoyance. Bastards, the whole lot of them.

"Kanda, you know the rules. You two are under the mistletoe."

"You heard Lenalee, Yuu~ It's the rules~"

"Don't fucking call me that name," Kanda growled. Yes, he and Moyashi were dating. No, they weren't bothering to keep it a secret. But that didn't mean they were now just supposed to make out in front of everyone just whenever. Keeping work and private life separate, and all that.

"Kanda."

Allen was still giving him that goddamn look. Kanda had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to win this fight. (He never did.)

"Come on Yuu, are you chickening out on us?"

'_Fucking hell. Manipulative bastards.'_ Kanda sneered, leaning in to capture the idiot's lips with his own.

They were far apart at first, and Kanda intended to keep it that way (no one ever said it had to be more than a chaste kiss), but Allen clearly had other plans. He wasted no time in pulling closer to the swordsman, placing one hand on the back of his neck as he deepened the kiss. Kanda was still fully aware of the others still watching them (quite avidly), but – damn it all – he never could find it in him to pull away, even if he didn't wrap his arms around the other like he usually would.

After a few minutes Allen pulled back, smirking triumphantly. Kanda didn't need to look at Lenalee and Lavi to know their expressions were very similar. Of course, he was outnumbered again.

"I fucking hate you all."


	2. Mighty Mugen

AN: Because I can.

* * *

It was unbelievable, but you'd finally managed to bed _the_ Kanda Yuu. _The_ hottest member of the Order – and the most foul-tempered – was in _your_ bed. It was unreal.

Your clothing was strewn about the room, long since removed. His long black hair fell around your shoulders and head like a waterfall as he sucked at your neck. Your moans were becoming almost pitiful – you felt desperate for _more now yes GOD._

He was teasing you, purposefully holding back – the smirk against your neck said that much. Finally, _finally,_ he positioned himself, and ceased his kissing to concentrate more fully on the task at hand. You heard him mutter under his breath.

"Mugen… hatsudou."

He plunged inside you, but the sensation was a bit dull as you processed his words. You questioned him before he could continue moving.

"Wait… what was that you just said?"

"What?"

"Did.. did you just…?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"…. Nevermind."

From that day forward, you never really could look at him fighting with his Innocence in the same way. You never once took him to bed again, but you did start to wonder about that "Allen Walker" fellow. You'd heard rumors that his sword was a lot bigger.

No one ever seemed to understand why that was so amusing to you.


	3. Monochrome

AN: Written after a late-night walk on the beach with some friends.

* * *

In the harsh light of day, they are opposites. One is darkness and one is light and when the world is vibrant and loud and so bright around them, the difference is so very obvious.

Not a day goes by that they don't clash somehow. The light shines oh so harshly on them, and there is no way they can mix. They are black and white, yin and yang, night and day.

Never during the day can they come together in this way. They still understand each other – as only opposites can do in battle – and work together in a way that is almost unified. But it is the movement of two separate beings. Two beings that understand each other well, but are not one. Are simply two.

But in this room, in the darkness of the night, the difference is much harder to see. In the world turned monochrome by the moon's imitation of light, they can blend.

The world dims, and the harshness of the light and darkness that separated them softens, blurs, blends. Here, between the sheets, in the light of the moon, they move as one.

Here, the battle is less between two opposites, and more a single being. It softens, it blends, as black hair falls around them like curtains and pools on the pillow to mix with soft white.

In the comfort of the night, they are no longer simply white and black – they blend, they mix, until they are nothing but the same shade of gray. They are one, just as they always have been, in the monochrome world of the moon.

Both would be so willing to stay in that monochrome world, that world that is all their own. Where they fall asleep as one, limbs entwined until they have no beginning and no end – one cannot be told from the other.

Come morning, however, they once again become two. No matter how entangled their limbs are upon waking, in the brightening light of the morning, they already wake as two. They separate, once more exposed to the harshness and brightness of the sun. Once again, opposites.

That bond between them is so very hard to see in the light – it flickers like a star, hidden in the bright light of the sun, but still present. They go about their day as usual, clashing and fighting and separating, remaining two under the harshness of the light.

But in the night, they return to the single being, the bond between them so very clear, and so very strong.

Perhaps one day, when they are both much older and far less harsh themselves, this blending will carry over into day.

But for now, they are content to have only that time spent in the world of monochrome, under the gentle and loving touch of the moon's light.


	4. Maybe

You wonder if maybe, just maybe, you might have had a chance to become something more. Perhaps in another life, under other circumstances. But this time around you won't be so fortunate. You know that much.

You can feel it down to your very core – neither of you are likely to make it out of this alive. You are already dying, and this time, you won't regenerate. There's so little of your life left as it is, and you're going to keep fighting. Your days are numbered.

But so are his. Even if he manages to overcome that Noah (you have a feeling it's only a matter of time until _he_ is consumed, anyway, but you're not going to voice that aloud), he will probably end up killed. Or that damn martyr complex of his is going to get him. Even if he is more determined to stay alive for the sake of others, he will end up a martyr, whether by his own hands or the hands of others. It is one of the few things of which you are absolutely certain.

Even so, there is so much that could have become of you two, had you been given the chance. He isn't just another face in the crowd anymore. He's managed to worm his way past your defenses, and he's become a comrade. Like Lenalee, or Lavi (though you only grudgingly admit that).

You realize that perhaps Marie was on to something when he said you two were similar.

Because you are, aren't you? You understand each other so well for people who clash so often. You once claimed to hate him, and for a time, it might have been true. But you can't say that anymore. No one would believe you, anyway. The two of you don't hate each other – maybe you actually never did.

Maybe there were a lot of things that could have happened. Maybe love, maybe a life where you could actually be happy. Maybe a reprieve from the fighting, from that organization you so hated. Maybe, anything could have been possible.

But you know now that your story is reaching its end. Yours, his, as 'Kanda' and 'Allen' you will both soon cease to exist. There is no time left for maybe. Not anymore.


	5. All That Matters

AN: Someone on Tumblr asked for a Yulmen drabble. And I was all too happy to oblige.

* * *

It was not anything at all like what Allen had expected for his love life, not in the slightest. But, if he was being completely honest with himself, he had to admit he couldn't really find it in himself to care.

They really were a dysfunctional trio, when he stopped to think about it. Bickering was the only thing they all could agree on when out of the bedroom. But dysfunctional wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He and Kanda had never been on a first-name basis, and by the time they were… well, they preferred the insulting nicknames, anyway. It really was more effective when you spent 99% of your time with one another fighting, as they did. It was a lot easier to piss off your opponent that way. (And they both had a knack for getting under one another's skin.)

At first glance, people seemed to think Alma was the one who kept the peace – a mediator or voice of reason, of sorts. In reality, the boy was just as prone to bickering as his companions. But he was much more subtle at it. As much as they were different, Kanda and Allen were so very similar when it came to fighting each other.

Allen had tried to be a gentleman – Cross drilled it into his head for years – but deep down, he was still a boy with a spitfire personality. And Kanda was Kanda. Irritable and surly, and completely dedicated to exposing Allen as the fake gentleman he was. (It didn't work as well as he wanted – Allen _was_ Cross' pupil after all. But it still melted the mask just a little bit, which Kanda seemed to enjoy.)

Between the three of them, it seemed like a sort of ticking time bomb. But beneath the bickering over every little event, there was a bond between the three of them. They seemed so different on the outside, but they all were far more similar than anyone else could see.

Alma, Allen, and Kanda were a strange group. But they loved each other, and that was all that really mattered in the end.


	6. Nutella

**AN:** Tumblr drabble request.

**Prompt:** Allen discovers Nutella.

* * *

Kanda didn't know how the beansprout came across these things. He really didn't. Allen refused to tell him in the midst of his gushing over his discovery, and Kanda had a feeling he would continue to wonder.

"Kanda, are you sure you don't want to try this stuff? It's seriously delicious."

"No, I _don't_ want to try that _shit_ you are stuffing down your throat. I hate sweets anyway, you _know_ that."

"I just thought I'd offer, jeeze. No need to get so angry, BaKanda," Allen shrugged. "Whatever, leaves more for me, anyway."

Kanda looked at the almost-empty container and barely repressed a shudder. He wasn't going to think of how many of those the beansprout had downed in the past couple days. It would make even the toughest of men (and menstruating women) shudder.

Kanda really did rue the day someone introduced the beansprout to Nutella. And he was going to kill whoever had done it, too.

Without fail, Kanda was going to get his revenge.


	7. Explosion

AN: I don't even have an explanation for this. But I regret nothing.

* * *

He wasn't sure was first woke him. Still in the realm of semi-consciousness, he was rather disoriented. Everything seemed to be normal.

But then he heard it – a very loud rumble, coming from… his bedmate? It was the only warning he got before there was the sound of a small explosion and a blast of air that knocked him straight out of the bed.

For a good few minutes, Kanda could only lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling dazedly. Finally, his mind processed what had happened to him, and his eyes widened – first in shock, then in anger.

"_Moyashi…."_

The explosion of anger from the dark-haired exorcist that followed almost rivaled the prior explosion from Allen. The younger man was quick to retaliate, and within moments, they were in a shouting match greater than any they had ever had before. They were still at it an hour later when Lavi had been sent to fetch them for their next mission.

"Oi, Allen, Yuu. Komui wants ya!" He called through the door, knocking. It soon became apparent, though, that the occupants either had not heard him, or were ignoring him, so he opened the door hesitantly.

"Guys? Komui – holy shit what is that _smell_?"

Kanda, fully dressed and irate, stormed out the door past the future Bookman who was trying his best not to gag.

"Ask the beansprout," he snarled, "he's the one with the gas problem."

"I do not have a _gas problem_, idiot! You're imagining things!" Allen countered indignantly.

"You know, Allen," Lavi managed weakly, "it certainly doesn't smell like that."

Allen glared at him as he left the room, closing the door behind him (much to Lavi's silent relief). Kanda had stopped a little farther down the hall to wait for them.

"Yeah, say what you want, beansprout, but _you_ were the one who farted _me_ out of bed."

"I did _not_," Allen tried to protest. His arguments fell on deaf ears. After all, Kanda never really was one to lie. And it really _had_ smelled worse than death in that room. Lavi hoped it would air out in time for their return.


	8. Disco Stick

AN: Just google disco dick, and you will see what Kanda's dick looks like. This happened. when I was writing the No.6 "Pjazzling" drabble. I am not sorry.

* * *

There is nothing more suspicious than a smiling Allen – of this much, Kanda is certain. It was always a good indication to be wary when the beansprout grinned like a Cheshire cat and acted so polite. He'd seen the boy gamble – this expression was hardly any different.

So far, it seemed like no harm had been done to his body – at least not that he could see or feel. But there could always be some… _unfortunate_ ink drawings on his face. Alma was seemingly unaffected, not that Kanda's unease was lessened. Alma and the beansprout were quite the devious duo. And Kanda was usually the one who suffered for it.

He made his way to the attached bathroom, and was relieved to see that at least there was nothing on his face. But Allen was still grinning, and now even Alma seemed unable to control his expression. Kanda glared at them.

"What did you do."

"Why, I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about, Kanda."

"You barely trust us at all, Yuu."

"Yeah, I'll trust you when you earn it, you little fuckers."

They only seemed amused as Kanda grabbed his towel for a shower, and retreated once again to the bathroom. He stripped himself of his clothing, and was about to turn on the shower when a glint of light caught his eye.

He looked down, only to find his precious "manhood" and general pubic area covered in tiny little mirrors, like a strangely oblong (and very dick-like) disco ball. With a growl, he ripped open the door to the room again, coming face-to-face with two soon-to-be-dead lovers.

"The fuck did you do to my dick?"

"We improved it, of course," Allen replied quite cheerily. "We figured you needed a bit of brightening up."

"You turned my dick into a _disco ball_!"

"Yes. Yes we did."

"…..As soon as I get this off, I'm going to kill you. Both of you."

"We love you too, Yuu~"


	9. Fever

AN: I wrote this forever ago when I was sick. And barely coherent. |D

* * *

Kanda was perfectly fine, thank you very much. So what he'd woken up feeling a bit warmer than usual? The temperature in the building was probably warm. And he wasn't congested or anything. It was from all the dust around the place from lack of cleaning and whatever destruction Komui's robots created. He was not - definitely not - sick.

That was what he told himself as he made his way to the cafeteria for breakfast that morning, dutifully ignoring the odd weakness in his limbs. Kanda Yuu did not get sick. He was perfectly healthy. But he still felt very uneasy about sitting next to the beansprout and the others. Of course, the white-haired idiot noticed him when he entered, waving enthusiastically.

He tried his best to be grumpy as he took his usual seat, but the throbbing headache was making it rather difficult to focus. As usual, he avoided responding verbally to the others' inquiries about his day thusfar. For once his antisocial and irritable tendencies had come in handy, not that he would be the one to point that out to anyone.

"So, Kanda, what are you doing on your day off?" Allen had asked innocently.

"Training."

Kanda ignored the way those silver eyes were burning his skin as he continued to eat his breakfast. His voice was undeniably far more nasal and horse than usual, but that didn't mean he was sick, dammit. He was fine, he was fine-

"Kanda."

Oh shit.

"Are you, by any chance, sick?"

No no no no no. Idiot beansprout, always sticking his nose where it wasn't wanted.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine to me. Unless your voice has the power to change overnight."

"You're imagining things."

Kanda stood abruptly, leaving his plate on the table and stalking out of the cafeteria. Just as he got to the doorway, the vertigo from standing so quickly caught up to him, and he instinctively grabbed the doorframe for support.

"I saw that, you know."

Of course, the idiot had followed him. And of course the idiot would see that. It was the tone of the idiot's voice, however, that made Kanda turn his head to look at the smaller teen. His expression was rather dark.

"I'm not imagining things. Kanda Yuu doesn't stumble like that."

The brat had him there. Allen sighed, and grabbed the swordsman by the arm, pulling him down the hallway towards his quarters.

"Back to bed for you, BaKanda. You need to rest."

"Don't call me that. And I'm not-"

"Don't even say it," the other teen cut him off. "I will find a way to get you to rest, whether you cooperate or not."

Kanda heaved a sigh, but did not continue to resist. The idiot really did have a way of manipulating him…


End file.
